From without
by Flying Faraway
Summary: Aizen’s violent activity has shattered the universal balance of spirit and material realm. The resurgent adept of sin escaped the Hell through the tiny groove in order to realize the prophecy of Necronomicon.
1. Chapter 1

**Preface: **Aizen's violent activity has shattered the universal balance of spirit and material realm. The resurgent adept of sin escaped the Hell through the tiny groove in order to realize the prophecy of Necronomicon.

**Warning! **Rating – T ( sinister details of so-called "Nameless rituals", mass killing). I swear the insanity awaits those receptive minds. Frankly speaking, it's actually a hyperbole because I have slightly exaggerated about the mental derangement (pardon my grim humor and inveterate decadency)

**Disclaimer:** Unfortunately, I am not the owner of the characters of Bleach manga/ but in the given work their existence fully depends on the changeable whims of author's nature!!! As for not to be blamed for plagiarism I also admit that the original idea belongs to insane Arab Abdulla al-Hazred, the creator of Necronomicon (a kind of book on the demonic arts)

**From without **

Existence embraces something and nothing concurrently…the world is a particle in the Universe…infinitely many roads intersect at one point…the chance of meeting incredibility obviously exists…no one knows what awaits him ahead…the darkness spreads farther than the light…

_From Genesis _

**Prologue **

This is the evidence of everything I saw and cognized within those years when I took the possession of The Three Seals of Mashu. I saw one thousand and one moons and, I suppose, it is more than enough for a mortal part. Yet, it is said that Prophets lived longer. I am weak and morbid and suffer from my tiresome body and the breath is suspended in my chest like an extinct lamp. Old I am. Wolves utter my name in their midnight psalms. From afar the Voice, which is low and insinuating, calls for me. And the nearby Voice whispers in my ears with impious craving. The weight of my soul will choose its solitary residence. Before I become the day of the past I ought to record everything about the approaching horrors from without that lie behind the waiting doors of all hearts , since it is the ancient secret, bequeathed by forefathers but cast into oblivion for the Humankind but certain men ( Let those names be obliterated off the face of the Earth)

As this is the Death Book, the Book of Dark Realms, which I wrote at my risk in the very way I witnessed it in the valleys of Igigi, the land of cruel celestial spirits which lies beyond the scopes of the Wanderers of the Deserts..

May all those who, read this book, be warned because their dwelling has been in the vicinity of the ancient clan of Gods and demons since the times before the Time itself. They have been seeking for vengeance since the lost war which tore worlds before the birth of our kind. The Elders roamed the space…


	2. A dream in a dream

**Chapter 1**

The twilight was weaved from weightless threads. Their intricate web created an illusive drapery. The gauze linen was fluttering in misty cascades. Ash specks were whirling among them, sparkling in the livid radiance. The stellar scattering precipitated and lied motionless, the grainy frosted faded, finishing its slow waltz. A man's silhouette reposed amidst the enchanting nocturnal spectacle. The brilliant fireflies soared in a peaceful solemn manner above him, illuming the feigned serenity of the fine-moulded face. The dormant resembled a corpse in his laid-back solitude. But a moment later the pallid languor of features dissipated: the man flinched and trembled in his sleep. The soul tossed, being constrained by the body. It couldn't seep through the narrow prison slits. Entangled in the dream, it moaned so dully that its mute groan awakened the sleeper. Kurosaki Ichigo opened his eyes and inhaled deeply like an infant exiled from the mother's womb. The tightness in his chest…the wrenching pain suffocated him like serpent embrace. Anxiety followed…it crept into his heart, throbbing in unison with its rapid beat. In an agony of silence the dull voice rustled: The dream…the same…we don't want to see it again…escape it. Ichigo obeyed. He rose from the cold ground. His movements were reserved. As soon as he got up, Ichigo looked around. Greenish and primrose patches were gleaming in the bluish clot of darkness. The forbidden precinct ran in the distance where the dusk curled at the limit of an invisible barrier. Only a foggy stripe could be seen. The boy turned enchanted in the direction of the dim fluorescence.

So he was walking on the rough bottom of a withered crease, digging his bare heels in the stoniness. As he approached his destination the light shined brighter almost blinding him. But never lowered his head and crossed the crepuscular zone at a rhythmical pace. Ichigo reached the border. The yawning void had been concealed before but now, heated to a white heat, it allured him like a virgin.

Only a short moment, just a flash of eternity, one desperate push against the gravity, only a life behind and the last breath …and he is no longer a part of the visible realm. He is in the middle of nothing and nowhere. The diffusion one thought… the lacerated fibers of conscience faded like delirium tremens.

Submit. Vanish. Oblivion is your lot. Silence. Oblivious Silence.

…………………..

He was sweating all over. Ichigo was in the grip of a nightmare. His body strained like a bow-string. His hands twisted bed sheets…

All of a sudden he rolled to the side and fell on the hard floor:

- What the heck! Damn those abnormal dreams…and high beds!

He cursed under his breath. He rubbed the nape of the neck…Odd it was…It felt rather good to feel the usual ache.


End file.
